Black Cairn Point

by Claire McFall

  ‘What do you mean, gone?’ Dougie demanded.

  ‘Gone,’ I heard Emma mumble against the fabric of his jumper.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dougie. That’s all I can get out of her.’ I ran my hand through my hair, agitated. ‘She’s totally freaked out.’

  Dougie nodded awkwardly, because Emma was tucked under his jaw, and tried to smile at me, but the worry was plain in his eyes. First his best friend, now Darren. What the hell was going on?

  ‘Help me get her to camp?’ he said.

  Together, we half-dragged, half-carried Emma down to the fire pit, which was flickering welcomingly. The flames drew me in and I was grateful to Dougie for lighting it with the last of the driftwood. More than the glow that chased away the gathering dark, I was desperate for the heat. I was shaking almost as much as Emma, chilled down to my very bones.

  Even with his badly swollen ankle, Dougie took most of Emma’s weight, supporting her entirely as he tried to manoeuvre her into one of the folding chairs. He dropped her gently, but she wouldn’t even hold herself up, slipping down and folding like a rag doll onto the sand. Dougie sighed and reached for her, but I stopped him.

  ‘Leave her there,’ I said. ‘She’s freezing.’

  ‘Yeah, but –’

  ‘Just leave her,’ I repeated.

  Emma didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge us, just gazed into the flames, rocking gently.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Dougie asked again.

  I had no answer for him. Only Emma knew, and she wasn’t talking. I stared down at her, watched her rub her arms, the skin already turning pink from being too close to the blazing heat.

  ‘I’ll get her a jumper,’ I muttered.

  I disappeared into the shadowy darkness of our tent and dropped to my knees. The air mattress had almost completely deflated and my knees dug painfully into the ground. I ignored the discomfort, rooting around in Emma’s backpack, chewing down hard on my tongue. Tears were blinding me and I didn’t want Dougie to see.

  Emma wasn’t acting. She was terrified and it had something to do with Darren’s disappearance. I hadn’t even been able to get her to confirm that he’d gone into the water. When I tried to go and look for him, scanning the waves, she’d erupted, hauling me back, away from the shore. I’d done the best I could, fighting Emma off every second, but in the end, I’d had to abandon the search and get her out of there.

  I was scared. Darren was gone. Martin was still missing and we had no way to get away from the beach. The Volvo was dead, Dougie was in no fit shape to be hiking God knows how many miles to the main road, and neither was Emma. Panic bubbled in my throat but I swallowed it back, took a deep breath. My fingers closed around the fuzzy warmth of Emma’s pink cardigan and I dragged it out, pulled it to my chest. Her perfume rose out of the wool and the familiar smell cleared my head a little.

  Scrubbing my cheeks to make sure there was no evidence of my little meltdown, I scrambled to my feet and lurched back towards the safety of the fire.

  ‘She any better?’ I asked as I approached.

  Emma was still hunkered down on the ground; Dougie sat staring at her, anxiety etched across his face. He shook his head at me, blinking ferociously. I looked away.

  ‘Emma?’ I dropped down so I was on her level, held out the cardigan to her. She had stopped rocking and though her face was still deathly pale at least she wasn’t wailing any more. ‘Put this on,’ I ordered.

  She did as I asked, obediently folding her arms into the garment, then buttoning it right up to her throat, but her eyes continued to stare into the brightness at the heart of the fire.

  ‘What do we do?’ Dougie asked, his voice tight. I ignored him, concentrating on Emma.

  ‘Emma.’ I reached out and took one of her hands in mine, forced it to lie still. ‘Emma, look at me.’

  She did, though I wasn’t sure that she was actually focusing on me.

  ‘Emma, where’s Darren?’

  Her face folded, tears brimming over straight away. She started shaking her head, the movement quickly escalating, threatening to get out of control. I reached out my other hand and grabbed her chin. Maybe I should start with something easier.

  ‘You guys went to get firewood?’

  A nod.

  ‘Down at the cove?’

  Another nod.

  ‘Did you have a fight?’

  A shake of her head. No.

  ‘Did Darren go off somewhere, then? By himself?’

  No again.

  I looked at her, a crease of confusion between my eyebrows as I tried to work out what could possibly have happened. Had I missed him?

  ‘Emma, is Darren still at the cove?’

  She paused before answering and my stomach dropped – had I left him there? I didn’t want to go back out into the dark. To my relief she shook her head slowly from side to side. Another no.

  I was out of suggestions.

  ‘Emma, where is Darren?’

  ‘Gone,’ she repeated, the word twisted through tears.

  ‘Gone where, Em?’ I said it as gently as I could manage, but frustration threatened to destroy my outward calm. We were going round in circles.

  ‘Was there someone else there, Emma?’

  I jumped. I had almost forgotten Dougie was there, silently watching. I went back to Emma just in time to see her finish nodding her head. What?

  ‘Who?’ I asked, too sharply, too eagerly. She shrank back but I didn’t register the gesture, pounding her with questions. ‘Did you see him? Was it just one man? What did he look like?’

  ‘Not who,’ Emma whispered.

  ‘Not who? What you mean, not who? Emma, talk sense! Were they old or young? Did you recognise them? Did you see which way they went?’

  ‘Not who,’ she said again, even quieter this time. ‘Not who, what.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘She’s totally off her nut.’ I sighed and buried my face in my hands.

  ‘Maybe,’ Dougie said quietly beside me.

  ‘Maybe?’ I tuned to glare at him. ‘She thinks a creature from the deep came and swallowed him!’

  That was how Emma had explained it. In between gasps and sobs and tears she’d described how the air at the cove had gone still, the water smooth. She’d stopped trying to kick stringy wet seaweed off a broken log and turned just in time to see a black mass burst from the water. Handless, it had nonetheless managed to grab hold of Darren, pluck him from the shore like he was weightless, then vanished with him, disappearing into the sea.

  ‘Totally off her nut,’ I repeated under my breath.

  Dougie heard me but he didn’t react.

  Emma was asleep in the boys’ tent, knocked out by two antihistamine pills Dougie had unearthed from Martin’s bag. I was too wired to even think about going to bed. Tension gathered in a knot between my shoulder blades and my knee jiggled constantly as my left foot worked itself into the sand. Besides, the fire was nowhere near burned out and I didn’t want to leave it unsupervised. Nor did I want to prematurely extinguish it with spadefuls of wet sand, as Dougie had suggested. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of the dark.

  I looked over at Dougie, suddenly noticing that his hair was damp, gleaming slightly in the firelight. He was wearing different clothes, too. I frowned, confused.

  ‘Did you go in the sea?’ I asked.

  ‘Eh, yeah.’

  ‘Swimming?’ Alone and injured?

  ‘Not intentionally.’ He twisted his mouth into a sheepish grimace. ‘I thought the cold water might help my ankle, reduce the swelling. But I lost my balance, got totally soaked. Clothes and everything.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, leaning forwards and scrutinising him more carefully. ‘Is your ankle … is it worse?’

  ‘I hurt it a bit when I fell, but I’m fine. Just got a bit wet.’

  We lapsed back into silence, but I couldn’t bear to let it last very long.

  ‘What time is it?’ I asked.

  D
ougie tilted his watch so that it caught in the light from the fire.

  ‘Just after midnight.’

  I snorted. ‘Happy Birthday.’

  It took a moment, but Dougie laughed too. The noise didn’t last long and it didn’t lift the oppressive atmosphere. I sighed.

  ‘Dougie, what are we going to do?’

  Again, there were several seconds of silence.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What … what do you think happened to Darren?’

  I watched him carefully. He was handling Darren’s disappearance fairly well so far, better than Martin’s. And Darren’s sudden vanishing act couldn’t be explained away the way Martin’s could. He’d had no reason to go, no spur. Unless he’d had an argument with Emma and stormed off. But that didn’t explain the state Emma was in.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Toneless, emotionless. Dougie gazed out into the dark rather than at the fire.

  ‘You … you don’t believe what Emma said, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘Dougie –’

  ‘No.’ He cut off my words. ‘I don’t believe her. But …’

  ‘He wouldn’t have just disappeared,’ I finished for him.

  ‘Right.’ He pressed his knuckles into his eyes. ‘Darren’s a thoughtless tosser at times, but he wouldn’t just go. Besides, his car’s here. I just … I just wish we could do something. Now.’

  ‘I know,’ I said soothingly, because he was looking more agitated by the second. ‘But we’ll go as soon as it’s light, Dougie. We’ll get to the road and use Emma’s phone as soon as we get any reception and if we can’t get a signal, well then we’ll just keep walking till we find someone. I mean, we’re not in the middle of nowhere, not really. That girl said there were plenty of people round here, they’re just dotted about.’

  I stared at Dougie. He still had his face hidden in his hands, grinding his fists into the sockets like he wanted to rub out the memory of the last couple of days, start afresh. I didn’t see any trace of tears but his skin was a blotchy red, his jaw clenched. I didn’t know what to say.

  Suddenly he lifted his head, gazed at me. The fire was slowly dimming, throwing his face into shadow. It made him almost frightening, especially with the dark gleam of his eyes boring into mine.

  ‘Let’s try and sleep,’ he said. ‘I want this day over with.’

  There was no discussion over sleeping arrangements. Without a word we both gravitated towards the biggest tent, where Emma was already quietly sleeping. With everything that had happened, no one wanted to go to bed alone.

  We crawled into our individual bags and then, without seeming to think about it, Dougie shifted over towards me and draped his arm around my waist, sliding into the same position we’d occupied the night before. I didn’t complain. I needed the comfort.

  I didn’t think I’d sleep, but when I opened my eyes it was lighter in the tent. Before sunrise, I was sure, but not by much. The daylight was grey, silhouettes and shadows taking on their proper shapes but still colourless, muted. The air was cold, the tip of my nose freezing. Despite this, I was absolutely sweltering. For a moment I couldn’t work it out, it seemed wrong somehow, but then I gradually became aware of the rigid band around my middle. Dougie was holding me so tight it was hard to breathe.

  Not wanting to wake him, I tried to shimmy my arms up so that I could reach the zipper and let some air in to cool my skin. I had to knock his hand out of the way to do so, and behind me I heard a murmured groan.

  ‘Sorry,’ I muttered quietly. Emma was still sleeping too.

  Dougie didn’t reply, although I was sure I must have woken him. Curious, I twisted round so that I could look at him.

  He had his eyes shut, but scrunched tightly, and his mouth was puckered. His hair lay flat against his head and strands were plastered across his forehead. Worried, I reached out tentatively and pressed my fingers to his face. It was burning hot and his skin was tacky with sweat. His moaned again, pulling away from my touch. His arm slid off my waist, freeing me. I sat up, trying to move carefully, aware that every shift of my weight sent the air mattress rippling under both Emma and Dougie. Slowly, I slid my hand under the edge of his sleeping bag, felt around his shoulder. He was feverishly hot and his t-shirt was sticking to him like a second skin.

  Scared, I yanked my hand back, gripped it with my other. It felt warm, like it had conducted some of the heat vibrating off Dougie’s skin. Was he sick? Last night he’d seemed, well, not fine, but okay. Not unwell.

  He wasn’t okay now, though. Quickly, I did an assessment of my own state. I felt normal. Not hot or woozy. Stomach felt fine. Whatever he had, I didn’t seem to have caught it.

  I remembered the gleam of his wet hair in the fire. The dunking he’d taken in the sea. Was that it? It had been cold last night, the water even colder.

  ‘Dougie,’ I whispered. His eyebrows twitched, but he didn’t stir. ‘Dougie.’

  I reached forward and shook his shoulder, gently at first, then harder. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to wake him. I only knew that I didn’t like being alone. I told myself that I wanted to talk to him, to see how he felt, what other symptoms he had, but I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

  ‘Dougie!’

  Emma mewled quietly, rolling over in her sleep, but I wasn’t interested in her. I stared down at Dougie, as if I could wake him with the power of my mind. It seemed to work. His eyelids fluttered then opened completely. At first his gaze was unfocused, confused. Then he looked up at me and I watched awareness dawn.

  ‘Is it morning?’ he croaked. I was alarmed to hear a deep rasp as he churned the words out.

  ‘Sort of,’ I said quietly.

  He looked around him, took in the drab light, Emma’s still, sleeping form.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek as I considered him.

  ‘How do you feel?’ I asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘I feel …’ He thought about it. ‘Freezing.’ As soon as he spoke the words he started burrowing down deeper into his sleeping bag. ‘Why is it so cold in here?’

  It wasn’t. Not really. The air in the tent was rapidly warming in tandem with the morning sun outside.

  ‘It’s not,’ I replied, my heart sinking. I did not want Dougie to get sick right now.

  ‘It is,’ he disagreed. ‘Where’s my jumper?’

  Wordlessly I handed it to him, watched as he sat up and started wriggling his way inside it, his whole body shivering as it was momentarily exposed to the air.

  ‘Urgh.’ He clutched his head then flopped back down to the air mattress.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Dizzy,’ he said, one hand still stretched across his forehead.

  ‘You’re sick,’ I said. For some reason I had to say it out loud.

  ‘I’m not,’ Dougie told me. ‘I’m fine.’ But even as he spoke he was trying to retreat further into the heat of his sleeping bag.

  ‘How’s your ankle?’

  Dougie made a speculative face and I heard a quiet rustling beside me as he experimented with his foot. After half a second he stopped abruptly and his expression twisted.

  ‘Sore,’ he admitted.

  ‘Let me see it,’ I pressed.

  ‘In a bit,’ Dougie said, pulling his covers up higher, looking at me defensively. He shivered again.

  I studied him closely. As the light slowly brightened, his skin was looking worse and worse. He was pale, slightly jaundiced. After another convulsive shudder he swallowed and wrinkled his nose.

  ‘You all right?’

  He didn’t answer but a moment later he was in motion. Despite having baulked before at the idea of emerging from his cocoon, now he was fighting his way free, thrashing and pulling at the sleeping bag, rocketing upright, heedless of his damaged ankle. I watched, confused, as he tore out of the tent, then just seconds later I heard the sounds of retching and coughin
g. He was throwing up.

  I swallowed back my own nausea – nothing to do with Dougie’s illness – and followed him outside. I grabbed a bottle of water from the now ice-less cooler before I rounded the tent to where he was hunkered over in the grass.

  ‘Thanks,’ he gasped as I twisted the top off and handed him the bottle. He took a deep swig then spat a mouthful of water down on top of the contents of his stomach. ‘I’m fine,’ he promised. ‘You don’t have to watch me.’

  The smell of his vomit was bitter and acidic, but I didn’t leave him. If he was running a fever he might pass out. Instead I waited while he took slow, measured sips of water, breathing shallowly and evenly, trying not to chuck it back up. Eventually he felt well enough to move and I helped him to his feet, shoving my shoulder under his arm as a crutch as he limped back towards the blackened circle that was our fire pit. Emma still hadn’t emerged. Through the hanging tent flap I could just make out her huddled form. I wasn’t sure whether to wake her or not, unsure what kind of state she would be in. She’d been hysterical the night before, right up until the drowsy meds had kicked in.

  ‘Do you feel like eating anything?’ I asked Dougie as he flopped into one of the chairs. He shook his head, looking green. Tugging the collar of his jumper up around his neck, he slumped down and continued to take tentative mouthfuls from the bottle of water.

  Just for something to do, I pulled out a rice cracker and started to nibble on the end. I wasn’t really hungry, though, and before I’d eaten half of it I threw it down into the hole, thinking it’d be burned up by the fire or eaten by a scavenging bird if we’d lit our last flame on the beach.

  ‘Do you think we should take Emma with us?’ Dougie asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

  I blinked, stared at him as I considered his words.

  ‘We can’t leave her here on her own,’ I said. Then I took a deep breath. ‘Are you going to be able to make it out of here?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dougie responded at once; his tone decisive, his face set. I kept my scepticism firmly off my face. ‘As soon as Emma’s up. That’s when we’ll go.’ He was looking at the waves as he said this and I couldn’t help the feeling that he was trying to convince himself, not me.